“Right. Left. Stop. Fuck you.” These are the options. Whether you are a cyclist, driver, or miscellaneous motorist, these are your tools for communication to navigate the city streets. Rarely do I go out on my bike without experiencing the failure of my street language in some awkward confrontation with a car who couldn’t see the foot deep pot-hole I, the bike, was dodging, and the confusing emotional effect I feel post-ride. Recently I’ve been trying to analyze the feeling. To my surprise, anger has very little to do with it. I have decided that it is a cocktail of embarrassment and sadness.

The embarrassment comes from the inability to explain the situation, and to show that you are aware of how you might have jeopardized your own safety, and the safety of others. I think the feeling is the inability to say, “I’m not usually an idiot!” Or “I’m not usually an asshole! I really am a nice person”. Perhaps this is a uniquely Canadian emotion- the desire to confess your complicity in a hot moment of traffic anxiety. Traffic danger, even. The guilt is a lot for our Northern self-conscious dispositions to handle.

The sadness is the effect of dehumanizing vehicle exchange. Right, Left, and Stop, are mechanical and cold indicators of direction. It is the language of the machine. The only human element is the middle finger. “Fuck you!” No wonder I am left sad every time I cycle home from work. For 45 minutes a day, my speech is limited to a language of aggression and blame.

No matter how slight the incident, the after taste is always bad one. If there was time, I would write sonnets to bikes and cars whose safety I have jeopardized in my cycling career. Toronto is much too fast and loud for explanations. Instead of poetry, I propose a much more practical solution.

A new signal- “Sorry.”

I’ll admit I don’t want to write poetry to car-drivers who have almost killed me. I tell them to Fuck Off instead. Or, my favourite, a surprisingly violent- “HEY!” However, if the offender made this small offering of an apology, it would be much easier for me remember that I am sharing the road with humans enclosed by metal boxes and bodies precariously balanced on metal frames. We would all do well to humanize the roads for sheer safety, and to recall our collective fragility. “Sorry”- a sign of regret- a sign of acknowledgement of another’s presence- and an acknowledgement of a mistake we shouldn’t carry with us for our working hours. Getting from A to B doesn’t need to be this heavy.